


Fucking Facon

by TheBadassIsIn



Series: Triple Dog Dare Verse [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional, Fire, Happy Ending, I Love You, M/M, Mates, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Prompt Fill, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:59:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBadassIsIn/pseuds/TheBadassIsIn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t hear. He was dying. He looked down at where Stiles was grasping his wrists again. Stiles was going to watch him die. He couldn’t let him see that. He had to go, run. Get away. He tried to stand, but Stiles kept pulling him down and yelling. He still couldn’t catch his breath, but every time he gasped the smell would attack his nose and tongue. Smoke, burning grease, plastic, but underneath it all was Stiles. Stiles who was holding him tight and rocking them and saying something. Derek listened to the rumble in his chest and the pounding heart and blinked against the spots in his vision and the dizziness. He could hear him, he was crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucking Facon

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: This is probably really mean but since Stiles and Derek are sharing emotions through the bond can you make Derek have a panic attack and have to face some of his emotions like a real boy?
> 
> A/N: I most certainly can. Trigger warning for panic attacks - though this does have a happy ending :) Enjoy, and keep those prompts coming!

It was time for a new stove if you asked Stiles. The pop out burners were a pain to clean and always had something on them to make the place smell like burning plastic no matter how he washed them. The back left one sparked if you used it, and the oven! Forget it. The pizza rolls were either going to take an hour and still be cold in the middle or turn into charcoal briquettes in under 10 min. If there was ever going to be a house fire, Stiles had big money on that stove from hell being the instigator.

Still, he was making breakfast for Derek and his dad and the eggs cooked fine. He was in the middle of french toast but he hadn’t burned any yet and its warm cinnamon smell covered the burnt plastic. At least to him, Derek looked a little uncomfortable, but that was probably more to do with the pot of coffee being passed between him and his dad in full Beacon Hills Sheriff uniform, gun included, after being caught sleeping in Stiles bed this morning. With Stiles. All cuddly and half naked. Yeah, it had been an awkward morning so far. Either way, the alpha’s head snapped up seconds before the world’s smallest piece of tin foil, that had apparently snuck into the microwave, sparked and lit whatever vegans used for grease on fire. He was just trying to be cholesterol conscious.

Fucking facon.

* * *

Derek felt the world slow down as he heard the snap and watched the spark send a hot blue light through the microwave that quickly turned to flame. He and the Sheriff stood up at the same time, knocking over the chairs with a loud crash. The Sheriff started digging through the cabinets but Derek froze as he watched Stiles spring to action and try to smother the flames with the towel from the sink. He knew you weren’t supposed to use water on grease, but the towel was useless as it soaked in the burning oil and caught fire itself.

Stiles yelped and finally Derek’s body and mind started functioning again. The towel Stiles dropped had fallen on some mail and was quickly spreading the fire over the countertop as the forgotten french toast burned and sent smoke into the room. Derek darted to his mate, half tackling him as he tried to pull him out the back door and into safety. Stiles just pulled back, trying to move things off burners and away from the fire to stop its spread as the Sheriff continued throwing open cabinets. “Stiles!” Derek yelled with all the force he could, trying to get his mate to forget the kitchen and think about his life. Stiles looked back at him and something on his face must have been convincing enough because Stiles let Derek haul him out the door even as his father found the fire extinguisher and started putting out the flames.

Derek pulled them all the way to where Stiles’ property met fenced off woods and tugged his mate to the ground taking Stiles hands in his and turning them face up to look for damage. Stiles fingers were pink from the heat and the tips were shining with the grease and burn blistered skin. It could have been so much worse. Still, Derek couldn’t breathe. The smoke and chemicals were stuck in his nose and throat and his lungs heaved trying to get more air. He couldn’t look away from Stiles’ hands even when he heard his mate talking. His vision blurred as watched the hands shake and he still couldn’t breathe. It was like his whole world was stopping and spinning out of his control at the same time. Just like the fire. And thinking about the fire made it so much worse because fire had taken everything from him already, now he had someone he wanted to keep so badly and it could have taken him too.

That smell was still there, they were still in danger. Stiles was always going to be in danger. His mate’s hands moved to hold tight to his wrists and Derek had this moment of clarity where he realized it wasn’t Stiles hands that were shaking, it was his. His whole body was tense and vibrating with barely contained fear and he had no idea how to stop it. He looked up and couldn’t keep his eyes in place, taking everything in, too much to focus on and not enough to get any details other than Stiles. Stiles was okay. Where was the Sheriff? How could he leave him in there? How could he leave Stiles without his father? But the man was coming out the door, waving some smoke out of his face before he was running to them, saying something Derek couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t hear. He was dying. He looked down at where Stiles was grasping his wrists again. Stiles was going to watch him die. He couldn’t let him see that. He had to go, run. Get away. He tried to stand, but Stiles kept pulling him down and yelling. He kept hearing his name and then Derek felt Stiles grab the back of his head and pull his face down to press it into his neck.

He still couldn’t catch his breath, but every time he gasped the smell would attack his nose and tongue. Smoke, burning grease, plastic, but underneath it all was Stiles. Stiles who was holding him tight and rocking them and saying something. Derek listened to the rumble in his chest and the pounding heart and blinked against the spots in his vision and the dizziness. He could hear him, he was crying.

“Derek I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry please just slow down, it’s okay. Come on, you can do it. I’m so sorry.”

Derek tried to do what he said, to slow down. To concentrate. It was okay. They were okay.

“I’ve never seen him like this, I don’t know what to do.” Derek tried to speak, to tell Stiles it’ll be alright but he just makes a choked off noise as he continues to gasp and Stiles holds him tighter.

“Stiles, calm down or you’ll have one too-” The Sheriff was saying but Derek couldn’t make sense of it before Stiles was talking again, and his voice as all he wanted to hear.

“Oh God. I’m doing this. I’m making it worse.” He let go and tried to move away but Derek couldn’t let that happen. He twisted his fists in the back of Stiles’ shirt and pulled him back again, burying his face deeper into Stiles’ neck and his scent. “Derek!” was yelled right in his ear. “Derek, stop. Let go.” Why was Stiles doing this? Derek clenched his fists tighter a few times before he forced them to let go of the fabric. Stiles puts both hands on the sides of Derek’s face and tilted his head up to look into his eyes. “Derek. Breathe in and hold it.” Derek tried but he had to let it back out so he could gulp in more. “Derek. Listen to me. That’s an order, do you want to disappoint your mate? Hold your breath!” Stiles barked at him, his face stone even though his eyes were wet with tears. He couldn’t make Stiles cry. He’d hold his breath until it killed him. “Good. Think about me, I’m your anchor right? Control this like you do your wolf. Just breathe.” Derek tried again. “Good. Breathe me in, breathe out the bad. You’re fine, you’re going to be fine.”

Derek could slowly start to think again, really think. He was okay, Stiles was here, the Sheriff looked fine, if a little dirty. The house wasn’t on fire. They were safe, they were okay. He reached up and pulled Stiles’ hands away from his face. He looked at the blisters on his finger tips again and concentrated, pulling away Stiles’ pain.

“Hey, hey you don’t need to do that. I’m fine, just relax.” Derek shook his head and continued until they both sighed. “Okay, maybe it did sting a little. Thanks.” He nodded.

“What did he just do?”

“I burned my hand, he took the pain away.” Derek watched the blisters slowly disappear and the skin go from irritated to healthy and soft again. He smiled at the knowledge that he  _could_ heal Stiles, but he would keep that to himself for now, not wanting his mate to get reckless thinking he could heal anything because a little burn was one thing, but if that fire was worse… he swallowed down another gulp of air trying not to think of that.  “You okay?” he nodded again.

“Yeah, was that-” He couldn’t bring himself to finish because if this is what Stiles and Isaac went through every time, he wanted to give them medals of honor and he definitely never wanted to ever trigger Isaac or let him trigger himself on purpose again.

“A panic attack. A bad one. Have you ever-”

“No.” And he never wanted another one.

“That’s probably why. They’re worse when you don’t know what’s happening. You think you’re dying and you’re out of control. I mean, they never really get any better, but they’re easier to stop when you know what’s going on. …Sometimes.”

“I need to go.” Derek heard himself say. That’s what he did when something got too emotional. He wasn’t used to all the talk-it-out moments they’ve been having over the last few days. He didn’t bottle up his emotions, he just saved them for later to use in a fight. It was fine, it worked. And right now he just felt so guilty and ashamed. He just needed space, time to clear his head.

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

“No.” Derek’s stomach turned at the hurt look Stiles gave him. “I’m s… I just need to be alone.” His mate nodded but he still looked sad and it had his wolf begging to stay. “I’ll call later.”

* * *

“You alright?” His dad asked as he watched Derek walk back to his car.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“He just needs some space. Give him time.” Stiles nodded, he knew, but he was kind of hoping that the space Derek needed could involve him, that he could help him get through what just happened. Because it was his fault. He wrapped the left over facon in tinfoil. He decided to use the microwave directions instead of the stovetop because it was the stove from hell and microwaving it would be faster. He didn’t check it well enough when he put it on the plate. He spread the fire instead of looking for the extinguisher like an idiot.

He gave Derek his panic attacks.

Stiles wouldn’t wish anxiety on his worst enemy. Maybe Gerard, but in all seriousness, no. Panic attacks were horrible, they turned your world upside down and could keep you from living your life if you let them. And for someone life Derek who kept his emotions, except anger, let’s be honest, in such order- never enjoying a happy moment, never trying to really connect with anyone even though he was so obviously lonely… panic attacks could destroy everything that the pack had built for him. Stiles shouldn’t have let him go off on his own.  If he reverted back to the lonely, brooding guy who thought he could handle everything himself that he and Scott found in the woods a year ago, Stiles was going to kill him. Not really, maybe beat him to a pulp. Or put a circle of mountain ash around his Camaro or something.

“Let’s go check out the house.” His dad said, heading back, and Stiles followed.

When Stiles walked in, all he could smell was smoke. That had to change asap. He looked at the mess, at the black marks up the wall behind the microwave and over the counter and on the ceiling above where the french toast burned on the stove. There was foam from the fire extinguisher liquefying and dripping everywhere. It could have been so much worse, but this was still going to take a lot of work. “You’re going to be late. I can clean this up and pick up some paint while you’re at work.”

“It’s going to take more than paint.” As his dad took the microwave out, the bottom of the cabinet above it gave away and dishes fell with it. The other cabinets above that side of the counter all had damage on the doors. The stove top on the other side had some serious damage under the smoke stains too and Stiles was almost happy they finally had an excuse to replace it.

“I’ll take care of it. It’ll give me something to do.” His dad looked at him like he grew another head. “What? I do house stuff! I could use your credit card though.” The Sheriff sighed but dug out his wallet.

“Are you sure you can handle it?”

“I’ll get the pack to help. Cabinets can’t be any worse than a Kanima.”

“Alright. Be careful and if you run into a problem, don’t worry about it, I’ll get a guy in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, go to work.”

“See you tonight, kid.” Stiles nodded and watched his dad leave before he sat on the floor and looked up at the mess. A glass decided to slide out through the hole in the cabinet and smash with the plates on the counter. He sighed and took out his phone. He wasn’t going to call the whole pack, but he could use a really use a friend right now.

“Yo Scotty, I need your help man.”

* * *

Isaac… wasn’t comfortable. He was sitting on his bed as Derek paced back and forth in front of his door. It seemed like the man was trying to get out an apology for something but Isaac had no idea what it was. The longer Derek stayed there smelling like smoke and fear the more worried Isaac got. Derek had been like a brother to him the last few months. He gave him a place to stay, a purpose, the feeling of family that Isaac thought was gone the day those two soldiers showed up at his front door and his dad started drinking. He was no Camden, but no one was. Still, Derek was family now. The only family he had at the moment and if he was about to kick Isaac out, he had no idea what he would do or where he would go. Then again, that didn’t explain the smoke. “Derek. Stop pacing and just say it, you’re making me nervous.”

Derek stopped right where he was and sat down, looking up at Isaac like he was about to cry. Isaac was in over his head. Derek didn’t argue, didn’t leave, didn’t order him to not tell his alpha what to do. He sat on the floor… and looked  _up_ to him. Sadly. What did he do?

 

“Derek, I… I can’t help unless you tell me what happened.”

“Do you need help?” Now Isaac was really confused.

“No?”

“I want to help you with your panic attacks. I don’t want you to trigger yourself anymore. If you want to see a therapist or anyone I can pay for it.”

Isaac was taken aback. Like he said, Derek was like a brother, he knew the guy cared but this was out of character. And then he remembered the training session and ducked his head in embarrassment. “Is this because I cried? ...On you.”

“I had one.” Derek blurted.

“One? …oh. Are you okay?”

“Yes!” He said as if it were stupid to ask if anything could hurt the big bad alpha. Isaac just watched him and waited. “I didn’t know they felt like that.”

“What triggered it?” Isaac figured the smoke smell was the answer but asked anyway. Talking it out wouldn’t work if Derek wouldn’t actually talk.

“Fire at Stiles’ house.”

That was not what he was expecting. “Oh my God Derek! Why didn’t you tell anyone? Is he okay? What happened?”

“They’re fine. The house is fine, I think.  Didn’t go back inside. But I froze when it happened.  I should have put out the fire. I should have protected him.”

“Derek, you can’t blame yourself for being scared.”

“I wasn’t scared, I froze.”

“Panic attack. Key word panic, or anxiety if you want, either one means scared. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Freezing gets people killed.”

“Well, it happened. You’re okay, he’s okay. Even the house is okay. If you’re worried about it happening again, I can give you some techniques to calm down.”

“I don’t need it.”

Isaac went back to staring, hoping he was pulling off a good impression of Derek’s glare until the alpha got up and left the room. When he slammed the bathroom door and turned on the shower, Isaac figured it was safe to continue. “In case you change your mind, I know Stiles has some he’ll give you. He’s a counter, counts his breath. In 1 2 3 4, out 1 2 3 4. I have a happy memory I reach for like our anchor.  I think that’s why it was so easy for me to calm down my first full moon, I’ve had that anchor a long time. Other people repeat something important to them, or hold their breath, some people use aroma therapy. There’s a lot of ways to deal with them, and accepting them might even make you stronger.” He got up and left, giving Derek some space. The alpha never wanted people around when he had a bad day, Isaac figured this counted. He’d go check on Stiles, maybe letting him know his mate was okay would help.

* * *

“Man, it reeks in here.” Scott was saying for the hundredth time, pulling the collar of his shirt over his nose where he was sweeping up broken glass and fire extinguisher gunk.

Stiles had just finished emptying the cabinets. Everything they could save had been moved to the kitchen table to wash later, just in case, and whatever they couldn’t was going in the metal trash can with the microwave pieces on the curb. Now he was trying to measure the old cabinets and take the door handles off so the intact ones that were on the other wall and avoided the fire would match the new ones. It was taking longer than he thought. He wasn’t exactly sure how to measure cabinets or which dimensions they would need so he just measured everything.

They didn’t talk much about what happened, mainly just work, tv and friends until they were on the way back from the hardware store. The cabinets were ordered, the closest ones he could find to what they had, but they wouldn’t be able to pick them up for a few days. He picked out paints and primer and all the brushes , trays, and tape they would need. He decided not to look for a stove. One look at how expensive they were and he thought that should be left up to his dad. He did get a new microwave though. One that actually had a popcorn button and maybe wouldn’t try to blow up the house over one teeny tiny piece of foil Stiles couldn’t even find when he was cleaning.

He looked.

He spent way too much time looking at the charred remains of the low cholesterol, vegan bacon for the shiny speck that caused all this so he could curse its very existence.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“You know it’s not your fault right?” That’s all it took for his walls to crumble down and all the insecurity to pour out. Stiles was insecure, he was very insecure, but he wasn’t usually like this. Insecurities were for hiding, sometimes even from yourself. If he could put on a happy face for others, sometimes he could forget he was really a nervous wreck inside. Maybe this was another bond thing. Was Derek like this too? And then Derek.

Look what he did to the guy. Derek _, alpha male, leap first, I’ll take the guy even though he’s enormous and will probably kill me_  Hale had a panic attack that - god it was so scary. Stiles had never seen one from the outside before. Isaac had them, but his were more like a ptsd episode where he curled in on himself and got it under control in his own head as soon as possible. Derek was a mess and it was all his fault. “It is all my fault. Derek had a panic attack.”

“What?”

“He took my panic attacks with the bond I guess and the fire triggered it and it was really bad Scott, and then he just left.”

“He probably didn’t know what to do with an actual emotion.”

“He has emotions, Scott.”

“Yeah, glare, angry, and I’ll kill you if you don’t stop annoying me.” Stiles used to think that too, but if these past few days had shown him anything, it was that things affected Derek way more than the pack knew. “Did you give him the panic attack on purpose?”

“No!”

“Then stop blaming yourself and, I don’t know, go talk to him or something.”

“He wanted to be left alone.” Stiles said, because that was still bothering him.

“Go after we paint. He’s been alone all day.” He guessed that was acceptable. Maybe he could bring over dinner since he screwed up breakfast.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s get to work. And you have to sniff test me when we’re done.”

“What? Why?”

“So I don’t smell like smoke.”

Scott just sighed. “Stiles, everything smells like smoke.” Stiles groaned. When he got home the first thing he did was open every window in the house so it could air out while Scott started ripping out the old cabinets. He was stripping his bed and empting his drawers, ready to take everything to the laundry room when he heard the creak on the top of his porch, right near his bedroom window.

“Derek?” Finally. It had only been a few hours, but it was such a relief that he was okay and willing to come back. When Isaac poked his head in the window all that hope deflated. “Oh. Hey Isaac. You know there’s like a werewolf welcome mat at the front door now right?”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Derek tell you about the fire?”

“Yeah. I thought you might need help cleaning up.”

Stiles laughed. “You my friend, are an angel. Yes we need help. Scott is ripping out cabinets, I’m about to try and get the smoke smell out of the house so Derek might consider coming back one day and then we have to paint.”

“I can go grab lunch and be back in time to help paint.”

“Angel.” He said again, going back to making the pile of clothes as Isaac went back out the window.

After burgers, milk shakes, and bless the beta’s heart  _curly fries,_ they got to work covering everything in plastic and scrubbing the walls over the smoke stains as best they could.

“So how did it happen anyway? Derek didn’t say.” Isaac asked, opening a can of primer and pouring it into the tray.

“I’ve been making my dad eat the facon Lydia gave me to try because it’s better for him. I saved the rest in tinfoil and must have left a piece on when I put it in the microwave. It spread so fast though. I’m telling Lydia to cancel her stock in the stuff. What’s the point in lowering your cholesterol if the food gives you a heart attack before you even get to eat it?” He let out a shaky laugh and it got quiet again as they each grabbed a roller to work on the wall or ceiling. He let a minute go by before he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “How’s Derek?”

Isaac smiled like he’d been waiting for the question too. “I think he feels guilty.” Stiles nearly hit himself in the face with the roller when his hand went slack.

“About what? It was my fault!” Scott groaned, shaking his head but kept painting obviously knowing it was a losing battle to try to convince him further right now.

“He said he froze when it happened. He probably feels like he didn’t protect you.” Stiles did hit himself in the face that time.

“Are you kidding? He looked to the microwave before it even happened. He jumped right up when I couldn’t put it out and hauled me out the back door even though I was fighting him because I wanted to keep trying. He was mid panic attack and still tried to get up and go help my dad.” He was in love with an idiot. How could Derek possibly think any of this was his fault?

“You know how it feels Stiles. It’s like your wading in water, everything speeds up and you’re moving so slow.”

“He was still hyperventilating while he was trying to take my pain away. It didn’t even hurt that bad.” Was all Stiles could say because even though Derek screwed up sometimes on the hero front, he didn’t today. It was that loner problem again. Derek had to do everything  _alone_  and if anyone helped, he felt like he didn’t get the job done right. Alpha males, werewolf or not, were morons and Stiles was going to have to tell him that later.

“You got burned?” Scott was yelling. “Where?” And there was his other worry wart, how did he surround himself with these people. Stiles looked into those puppy eyes that asked him to be his friend back in Kindergarten and remembered, he surrounded himself with broken people that needed love more than anyone else. And if putting up with their macho fronts and occasionally letting them fight his battles and be over protective made them happy, then so be it. They were his family and he loved them all.

“Just my fingers.” He said looking down at the hand already covered in primer. The skin was pink and new on both hands…what? Stiles rubbed his fingers together. Did he heal like a wolf? Was this a mate thing or was it Derek? If Derek could heal him and didn’t say anything out of some ridiculous idea that Stiles was going to be less careful then he was going to give him something of his own to heal.

As if to prove a point, the universe had him slip in the puddle of primer he had been dripping onto the tarp and fall right on his back, cracking his skull against the linoleum. Stiles sighed, this day could really stop now, anytime.

Hours later and after a triple layer of primer and double layer of paint, Stiles arms were shaking and he was exhausted. He was also incredibly happy Scott and Isaac helped, especially when they figured out they had to buy another can and paint the whole room because the freshly painted wall didn’t actually match the others even though they did the whole pay extra to create a paint match color thing. His dad had even come home for a break and was impressed with their progress. Now he was trusting that no one would be stupid enough to rob the Sheriff’s house as he left all the windows open to continue airing out and went to take a shower at Scott’s house because, unfortunately, both betas informed him that he and the house still reeked of smoke. Isaac thought it would be fine, but Stiles wanted all reminders of that morning to be gone when he went to talk to Derek.

He stepped out of the bathroom as clean as he could get with clothes straight from the dryer with extra dryer sheets and went to Scott’s kitchen for approval. Both betas smile at him, laughing and letting him know he missed some paint on his eyebrow but he was fine.

“You need a ride back home Isaac?”

“Actually… mind if I stay here for a while Scott?”

“Yeah, no problem dude.”

“Thanks. I don’t really want to be in the loft when they make up.”

“More like make out.” Scott gagged.

“Exactly.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and made sure to slam the front door.

* * *

Derek knew Stiles was there before he got up the nerve to open the door. It took a while. Derek heard his heart beat and smelled his scent mixed with paint, Scott and Isaac and still a little smoke from his bedroom. When minutes passed, he moved out into the den to be closer. Ten minutes later he was standing in front of the door debating whether or not to open it himself when Stiles finally got up the nerve and slid the door aside, taking in a sharp breath when Derek was right there. He blinked up at him before rubbing the back of his neck, “Yo, D-Derek.” He stepped forward and Derek couldn’t stand that he couldn’t find his own scent on Stiles after barely a day.

 “I’m sorry.” Derek said, pulling Stiles back into a hug and probably crushing him he was squeezing so tight, but couldn’t bring himself to let go again. “I’m so sorry I ever tried to scare you.”

“Hey. Don’t do that.” Stiles coughed, trying to tap out on his shoulder. “It’s my fault, you took them from me. I’m so sorry Derek. I would never have given them to you no matter what. I’m so sorry.” Stiles thought it was his fault and all he could do was squeeze tighter “Derek, you’re killing me man.”

“Stop. It’s not your fault. I got them because I have to control my emotions all the time, I have more practice.” He loosened his hold as much as he could stand.

“I have to control my emotions too, and having no emotions doesn’t count as controlling them.”

“I have emotions.”

Stiles pulled back to look him in the eye. “Yeah, you do, but you just feed them to your wolf instead of expressing them.” Derek just glared back. “That’s not control, that’s bottling it all up just like Jackson.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Don’t go back into yourself. If you’re having a hard time, talk to me instead of going off alone. And don’t you dare go back to being the broody loner. These last few days you’ve been connecting with the pack. I got you to laugh out loud a few times.” Stiles sighed and rested his forehead against Derek’s chest. “I’m not saying you can’t be yourself, I’m just asking that you tell me what’s going on inside. When you’re mad, say it. Sad, I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy. Guilty? You can’t feel anymore guilty than I do. I don’t want to lose you because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” Derek said before he could stop himself.

“You’re lying. I can feel it. I just don’t know what you’re scared of.”

Derek sighed, resting his head on the side of Stiles’ and studying a swipe of paint behind his ear. He pulled his mate tighter to him. Stiles wanted emotion, he wanted truth and Derek didn’t really know how to do that but he wanted to try and he knew where to start. “You.”

Stiles tensed in his arms and the fear in Derek spiked, was this a mistake? At least he would know now and be done with the tiptoeing and waiting. “You’re scared of me?” Stiles whispered to his chest.

Derek nodded his head against him. Take the chance, show emotion. He took a deep breath, aroma therapy Isaac said. If only he could bottle Stiles. Even smelling like paint and Scott’s soap, it was still the best smell in the world. “I love you.” He whispered back.

Stiles leaned back and snapped up his head. “What?” He asked, grabbing Derek’s shoulders, eyes wide.

His mate’s heart was pounding and Derek did the best he could not to school his features into the stoic mask Stiles wanted him to throw away. He pressed their foreheads together took another deep breath to say it again, the words like a weight off his chest, “I love you.”

Stiles changed the angle of their heads, bringing his mouth up to press against his and Derek couldn’t help but smile when he felt the wave of warmth and happiness blast through Stiles and into him. “I love you too.” He said against Derek’s lips.

It was going to be okay. They were going to be okay. And if he could feel that from his mate every day, Derek would never hide himself again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: This was supposed to be a COMPLETELY different story and then it just took on a life of its own. Panic attacks man, jeeze! P.S. facon does catch on fire in the microwave if you maybe leave a speck of tinfoil on it and maybe it has some ice bits because it's not completely defrosted. It’s evil and should not be trusted – eat bacon instead. Mmm, bacon.
> 
> -
> 
> edited 11 January 2014  
> Please bring any mistakes we missed to the comment section or thebadassisin.tumblr.com/ask  
> Thank you - WT


End file.
